


Transformers: Juxtaposition

by Vaeru



Series: The Sparkbearer Saga [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Abduction, Alien Culture, Based loosely on G1, But completely different, First contact funtimes, Gen, I reject your reality and substitute my own, POV Original Character, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaeru/pseuds/Vaeru
Summary: Sparkbearer Saga: Part I. G1-based AU. A car wreck on a rainy night leads to the oddest partnership imaginable. A disembodied voice, possessed cars, alien robots, kidnapping, rescue, abduction, sparks, keys, and tomato sandwiches... Read if you dare."You say... that you've been hearing voices?"





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:**  I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All unrecognizable ones are the intellectual property of yours truly; their theft is punishable by severe voodoo-induced pain in any and all sensitive organs of the body, followed by eternal damnation.  
> Because, you know, stealing is wrong.
> 
>  
> 
> _Mild revisions as of 7/8/17. Originally posted on ff.net._

_All of us are crazy in one way or another._ **_-Yiddish proverb_ **

* * *

"You say... that you've been hearing voices?"

The doctor was in his fifties, intelligent eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and dark hair just beginning to gray at his temples. His pen moved across the notepad with a series of rapid sweeps and slashes that seemed unnaturally loud in the small office. Evelyn's eyes tracked the movement as though the pen were something small and poisonous that she would very much like to squish.

"Voice," she corrected with a tense sigh. "Singular."

"Voice," the doctor echoed. The pen  _skritch-skritch_ ed another note, and Evelyn glanced up at the wall clock: twenty more minutes until freedom. "You've been hearing  _a_  voice. Do you want to tell me about it?"

"A guy's voice. Sometimes it says stuff to me. Mostly it sounds like someone thinking out loud. Loudly. At length."

_Skritch-skritch._ "Does this voice tell you to do things?"

"No." She rubbed at the light medical glove that covered her right arm. "When I watch TV, sometimes it wants me to change the channel. It wants to watch Discovery."

The doctor sent her a strange look before recovering his normal air of placid neutrality.  _Skritch-skritch._ "You... argue with it?"

"Not really. I like Discovery."

A pause. "Do you think that's significant?"

It was Evelyn's turn to give him a strange look. "Liking the Discovery Channel?"

"That you share the same interests."

"If watching documentaries gets it to shut up, I'm all for it."

The doctor took a moment to reread through his notes. "I see. Can you pinpoint a time when this first started?"

Evelyn touched the glove again, frowning. "Four months ago. I was in an accident."

_Red and white and blue swirling and sparkling on falling rain. Sirens as a distant, annoying buzz and shadowed figures moving at the edges of vision. Metal looming to one side, crumpled red and black, and a tire beside her head, shredded. Cold water above and muddy grass below, fire in her arm, burning in her chest, shards of glass stabbing behind her eyes as voices called and hands prodded, and everything was confusion and pain, pain, pain..._

"You mentioned that in your intake forms, I believe." The doctor flipped through her file and skimmed one of the sheets near the front. "April seventeenth, correct? Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Nothing much to tell." Evelyn uncrossed and crossed her legs, hiding a wince at the movement, smoothing a fold in her skirt and taking the opportunity to rub at her thigh. "The police say that someone T-boned my car at an intersection. Cracked some ribs, tore some muscles. Gave me this." She gestured at the glove. "I woke up in the hospital two weeks later."

"And that's when you first heard the voice?"

"It reamed me for taking so long to wake up and complained about being bored."

"I... see." 

_Skritch-skritch._

* * *

Evelyn tucked the prescription note into her purse and pulled out her sunglasses as the afternoon sunlight assaulted her eyes. She looked between the five short steps leading down to the parking lot and the long, roundabout wheelchair ramp. With a sigh, she made her careful, limping way down the latter, hand hovering over the metal handrail.

' _Exactly how often are you planning on coming here?'_

She pulled her keys from her purse with perhaps a little more force than was needed, jaw clenched as she scowled down at the cracked cement. A subdued-looking couple gave her an odd look as they passed her on the sidewalk, but she ignored them and continued into the parking lot.

' _And you're ignoring me. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? I didn't plan this, you know.'_

The key grated into the lock of the battered, out-dated four-door that had taken the place of her much beloved and dearly missed Taurus. Sitting was a relief for her thigh even though the interior of the car was muggy as hell and twice as hot, and she turned on the engine and cranked the vents on high. After making the usual visual checks and fastening the seatbelt, she pulled out of the parking space.

' _How do you organics stand this? It's like a smelting furnace in here, and you don't even have interior coolant systems.'_

Evelyn sighed, braking at the exit of the parking lot.  _And mother wondered why I thought I was insane._

' _You're not insane.'_

"So says the voice in my head." She flicked on a turn signal and waited for a break in traffic, relieved when the air-conditioning finally began to blow cold.

' _That's really rude, you know. You can't keep calling me "voice" forever. I told you my name.'_

_Giving you a name completely undermines my going to a psychiatrist to try to get_ rid _of you._  She waited for a dirty pickup to pass and pulled onto the street. Afternoon traffic was thin and mild in the downtown area of Mason but steadily thickened as she drew nearer to the main thoroughfare.  _I'm not having this conversation._

' _You don't have to give me anything. I_ have _a name. Come on, say it.'_

_Shut up._  A left turn onto Broad Street, and then two blocks until Highway 19. She was abruptly facing the sun and pulled down the visor to shade her eyes.

' _Say it! You know you want to. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! You can do it... One little word...'_

_It's not even a name. It's an accident, like the one I'm going to have if you don't shush!_  She signaled a lane change and slid into the turn lane outside the pharmacy parking lot. Cars whizzed by on both sides, and she darted quickly through a gap, scraping the undercarriage on the uneven pavement at the parking lot entrance. Finding a space was ridiculously easy in the near-empty lot.

' _Say it and I'll be quiet.'_ The voice chortled like a little kid who knew that mommy was one  _please_  away from breaking.  _'Say it, say it, say it!'_

She climbed out of the car and slammed the door, digging into her purse for the prescription slip before she even neared the doors to the pharmacy.

"Shut up, _Sideswipe_."


	2. Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Stolen? What do you mean, 'stolen'? My car is a giant metal pretzel. Who would want to steal it?"_

" _This must be Thursday," said Arthur musing to himself, sinking low over his beer, "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."  
_**_–Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams_**

* * *

"Stolen? What do you  _mean,_ 'stolen'? My car is a giant metal pretzel. Who would want to steal it?"

Her office, a small closet-like space in the basement of Morris Hall, held more filing cabinets and storage boxes than the records room of the college library. The sole point of color was a dejected little African violet set beneath the desk lamp, and tiny fingers of daylight pried their way inside through the cramped window set high on the wall at the back of the room, playing on the swirls of dust hanging in the air. Evelyn sat in an awkward, half-curled position beside one of the open file cabinet drawers, leaning back against the sturdy mass of her desk and surrounded by stacks upon stacks of files and papers and folders and God-alone-knew-what-else.

Her attention was focused upon her cell phone, the plastic case creaking in her tightening grip and held against her head hard enough to make her ear ache. The voice on the other end was faint and buzzed with static; basements as a rule were bad for reception, and her office doubly so.

" _We dunno why, Ms. Hughes. We just know it's gone. The police are here right now, takin' statements. They wanna talk to you."_

"I..." She glanced at her wristwatch. "I need to finish up over here, first. I can be there in... forty minutes? Is that okay?"

" _Gimme a sec."_  The  _clunk_  of a receiver being set down on a hard surface echoed down the line. Evelyn sighed and picked up one of the files, halfheartedly scanning the contents. Language drift in European countries, 1400s through 1700s. She returned the file to the cabinet and reached for another.

A light knock startled her, and she leaned around the edge of her desk to see the door. "Hello?"

" _¡Qué lío!"_  A young man, dark-haired and tan with mahogany-brown eyes, peered into the room as though expecting a monster to leap out of the mess and attack him. "Did a hurricane hit?"

"Miguel?" Evelyn waved him into the room. " _¿Cómo estás?_  What are you doing here?"

The young man grinned at her, smiling like the sun appearing from behind a wall of clouds. " _Bien, Profesora Hughes._  Beth said she saw you come in, and I just had to see for myself. Half the grads think that you're dead."

"Ha. In the words of Mark Twain, 'The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.'" She looked at the young man with a fond little smile. "Jamie brought the card by. Tell everyone thanks, okay? It was really sweet."

"No problem." He glanced at the phone. "You busy? I can come back."

"I'm on hold." She gestured to an old wooden chair set next to the door. "Sit. How are classes going?"

"Terry broke the Scantron machine. Ninety-odd linguistics tests, and we're stuck hand-grading." The chair squealed alarmingly as he took a seat, but it held his weight with all the stubbornness of forty-odd year old wood. Miguel's grin took on a Puck-ish tilt. "And Professor Richardson can't teach worth beans... but you knew that."

"John Richardson is a classic culture professor. Of course he can't teach linguistics." Evelyn glanced at another file. Phonemes and vowel patterns in Germanic languages. Back into the cabinet it went. "I hope you're doing damage control."

"We try. You're coming back soon, right? We lowly grad students can only do so much against the evils of incompetence."

"Not any time soon. I'm on medical leave through at least the end of September, stuck writing articles and consulting. You'll just—" A series of scrapes and clatters sounded from her phone. Miguel opened his mouth to say something further, snapping it shut when she raised a hand in a  _hush_  signal.

" _Ms. Hughes? You still there?"_

"I'm here."

" _They say they'll be another half-hour, but they're willin' to wait to meet you. That alright?"_

"Sure. Just let me straighten things out here. I'll be over as soon as I can."

" _We'll be seein' you in a little while, then. Thank you, Ms. Hughes. We're real sorry about all this."_

"Thank you." She closed her phone, setting it on the floor by her purse and looking forlornly at the mess surrounding her. Miguel watched with blatant curiosity.

"Is something wrong, Professor?"

She glanced at the grad student. Six years ago, that would have been her sitting in that chair, sincere and responsible and happy and—most importantly— _sane._  How time flies.

' _Says the organic that hasn't even lived half a vorn.'_

Evelyn clenched her fists, sending pain spiraling up her gloved arm when tender scar tissue protested the abuse.  _Quiet, you. There's a_ Friends _marathon tonight, so unless you want to find out the father of Rachel's baby instead of watching your precious WWF, I'd be very,_ very _nice._

' _... You fight dirty.'_

"Someone stole my car." She reached for one of the smaller piles of folders and stacked it atop one of its brethren, repeating the process several times with other piles.

Miguel looked puzzled and a little concerned. "What, just now? You need a ride?"

Evelyn blinked, pondered that, and then laughed a little, humorless laugh. "No, no. Someone stole my  _old_  car. The one bent like a horseshoe."

"Oh."

"Yes. 'Oh.' Don't know what they'd want with it, unless they're into modern metal sculpture."

"Huh," he said. Then, "I'll bet it's that new gang."

' _Gang?'_  It was strange, but she could  _feel_  the voice perking up and paying attention.

"Gang?"

"On the news. You haven't seen?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "It's like something out of  _Fast and the Furious._  There's this car gang that's been giving the cops hell. It's gotta' be the mafia or something. The cars are  _unbelievable."_  He breathed the last word reverently, eyes bright.

Evelyn stared at the young man she had mentored for the better part of the past six years.  _Never took him for a car geek,_  she mused. "Sounds like tabloid hoo-ha to me."

"No, I'm serious. They've got pictures and everything. One of 'em looks like a Ferrari. A Ferrari! How incredible is that?"

The voice made a sound of disgust.  _'What's so great about a stinking Ferrari? Kid has no taste.'_

"It's  _incredible_ that they haven't been caught. If I were a thief, I certainly wouldn't use a Ferrari as a getaway car."

She had consolidated most of the mess into four very unsteady looking mounds, and she shoved these against the wall. The open file drawer she pushed shut, checking the lock even though there was not much point in securing a cabinet full of what basically amounted to the comprehensive history of the development of the English language. She glanced at her watch.

"Actually, Miguel, if you have the time, could you do me a favor? If you don't, I can get one of the secretaries to do it, but you actually know what all these are about. I need the set of folders on the Great Vowel Shift, to write up some notes for the English department at one of the local high schools, and I can't remember where I put them. I know they're in one of these piles. Could you find them and give them to Professor Grant to give to me? I really need to get going."

"Sure thing."

"That'll be a huge help." Grabbing the edge of the desk, she pulled herself into a standing position, ever-careful of her thigh and arm. She retrieved her purse and phone from the floor and smiled at the young man. "Thank you so much—and be sure to tell everyone hello from me, alright?"

She extended her hand toward him. His eyes caught on the beige glove and his cheery mood faltered. He took her hand carefully, as though afraid it would break.

"Get better, alright, professor? It's just not the same without you around." He as serious as she had ever seen. Evelyn found herself at a loss for words, but he abruptly stepped away, sparkling grin back in place as he gestured flamboyantly toward the door, bowing.  _"De prisa, profesora._  You don't want to be late! I'll take care of everything."

" _Gracias,_ Miguel."

* * *

' _Your job is even more boring than it sounded. I didn't think that was possible.'_

August in Georgia was, as a rule, muggy. This August appeared determined to put all its predecessors to shame in terms of sheer misery caused and, in Evelyn's opinion, was succeeding stunningly. Exiting the building was akin to running headlong into a wall of hot, moist air, and it took a long moment before she felt able to breathe without gasping.

In addition to being damnably hot, the weather had other ways to make her miserable. The humidity made the medical glove itch worse than if her arm were coated in creepy, crawly caterpillars, and walking anywhere, no matter how short the distance, felt like a long, limping trek through Death Valley at high noon. The verdant greenery of the campus gardens was quite lost on her.

"That is  _not_  my job," muttered Evelyn. Her car loomed before her at last, a shining vision of plush seats and air-conditioned comfort. She reached for her purse.

' _You said you worked here. Isn't that the definition of a job?'_

She caught herself before she made the mistake of speaking aloud again.  _I'm the department head for linguistics. I teach. I supervise the graduate program._ She scowled, lips twisting in a grimace.  _Now, thanks to you and Mr. Therapist, I'm stuck writing stinking lecture notes for other professors because the college won't bring me back from medical leave until my cranium is no longer a_ time-share _—_

"And  _where_  are my  _damn keys?"_

She raked through the contents of her relatively small purse, pawing through the different sections. Sweat was already prickling along her hairline, and she was just so  _tired_.

' _In your pocket.'_

Her hand went to her thigh... and felt the familiar bumps and ridges of her key-chain beneath the fabric of her slacks. With forced calm and gritted teeth, she pulled them out, their merry jingling grating against her nerves like the shrieks of twisting, tortured metal. She unlocked the door, and as she slid into the driver's seat, she felt the voice contemplating her, watching her.

' _You know,'_  it said at last,  _'I think you're right._

' _You are insane.'_

* * *

Evelyn was met in the parking lot of Forps & Davis Towing and Salvage by one of its namesakes, Randy Forps, a huge, broad-shouldered man whose hair appeared to grow healthily on every portion of his body save his head. He led her across the gravel parking lot and through the open chain-link gate beside the small office trailer. Cars of all colors, sizes, ages, and wear stood in clumps and rows in the expansive salvage yard, stretching away like a jungle of giant beetle carcasses. The scents of dust, hot metal, and oil hung heavy in the air, the sun beating down upon the yard with the force of Hephaestus' hammer.

"D'ya need help, ma'am?"

Evelyn glanced over to find her escort watching her with concern. He looked at her feet pointedly.

"Oh." The limp. "No. No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

He did not appear convinced, but neither did he argue. "Yes'm. This way."

He led her past a cluster of gutted vehicles, and as they rounded a corner, she caught sight of two policemen standing beside a suspiciously open gap in the crowded lot. The taller of the two, an African-American with a mustache and neatly trimmed beard, had a notepad in hand, arms folded and pencil tapping against his bicep. The other, round-bellied and gray-haired, was peering at the ground, looking puzzled and irritated. Evelyn looked at the two policemen and then around at the surrounding cars, her mouth pursing into a confused frown.

"'Scuse me," called Mr. Forps, catching the pair's attention. "Officers? This is Ms. Hughes."

They closed the distance to the two policemen, Evelyn stumbling slightly when her foot caught on the edge of a strange, squarish pothole. The older officer nodded at her when she drew near.

"Tim Winder," he said gruffly, voice heavily laden with a 'Southern twang,' causing his name to come out more along the lines of  _Tem Wahnder._

The other officer was friendlier, shaking her hand and smiling. "I'm Jim Jenner, Ms. Hughes. I'm sorry about the circumstances, but we could use any information you can give about this. It's odd. No tire tracks or sign of a second vehicle to tow the stolen vehicle. Our only suspect so far is Houdini himself."

"I'm sorry to hear that—and it's nice to meet you both, officers." Evelyn looked around the lot once more, frown even more pronounced. "But... I think that there's been some sort of mistake."

"Mistake?" Officer Winder's head came up like that of a bloodhound catching the scent of his quarry. "Whadja' mean, mistake? Yer the car's owner, right?"

"Well, yes," agreed Evelyn. She pointed at a pathetic heap of cracked glass and crumpled blue metal lying off to one side. " _That_  car."

There was a long moment when all three men stared at the corpse of what had once been her pride and joy, her Taurus, affectionately and aptly nicknamed Jinx. In the back of her mind, the voice snickered.

Officer Jenner looked toward Randy.

"Mr. Forps...?" he prompted.

The yard's owner rubbed his bald pate thoughtfully. "I coulda' sworn... Her name's on the paperwork, sir. I dunno." He straightened, eyes narrowing. "Actually, there  _were_ two cars signed in at the same time. There coulda' been a mix-up. They came in pretty late, as I recall, like three or four in the morning."

"D'ya know who owned th' other car?"

"No one." Mr. Forps shrugged. "No driver was ever found, from what I understand. I couldn't even get a make off it. The engine was a mess, too mangled for us to bother with, and whole panels were missing. Only thing I know is that it was something low-slung and sporty, painted bright red."

' _WHAT?!'_

* * *

The knife sliced cleanly through the red-orange orb, spattering the cutting board with juice and yellow seeds. Evelyn squinted against her ongoing headache and methodically disemboweled the tomato, lips pinched together and shoulders tense. In the living room the muted mumble of her television provided a dull counterpoint to the squishy thud of each new meeting of knife and fruit.

_'You're still mad.'_

_Am not. Why would I be?_ She slammed the knife down on the countertop and began to pile tomato segments onto a pair of mayonnaise-coated slices of bread. These she topped with salt and pepper and another pair of bread slices. _I love getting knocked on my ass in front of total strangers. It's fun. And did I mention that I'm a masochist? This migraine is_ making my day.

She slapped the two sandwiches on a plate, grabbed a bottle of Advil from the counter and a drink from the refrigerator, and stalked over to the couch, sinking into the cushions and settling her plate and glass on the side table. She picked up the remote and flipped the channel. Images of six people playing in a fountain danced across the screen, accompanied by upbeat music.

_"—was gonna' be this way. Your job's a joke, you're broke, your love life's DOA..."_

_'Oh, please don't do this. I said I was sorry!'_

She tipped out two of the headache pills and threw them into the back of her throat, taking a long swallow from her drink, wincing when one of the pills went down sideways. _Suck it up._

_'Can we at least watch the news instead? I'll even settle for 24.'_

_Hush. I'm trying to watch._

_'It was an honest mistake. I didn't know it would hurt you. You organics are so fragile...'_

Evelyn pulled her feet up on the seat cushions and lounged against the arm of the couch, singing along.  _"I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to fall. I'll be there for you, like I've been there before..."_

_'C'mon!'_

_I want you to_ remember _this the next time you want to throw a temper tantrum._

If suffering through the voice's thunderous tirade of curses upon and threats against car thieves and their ilk had not been enough to ruin her day, keeling over in front of three strange men from the resultant pain had been more than sufficient.

She reached for one of the sandwiches. The voice made a sound somewhere between a gulp and a gag.

_'Please don't eat that. It's disgusting—'_

She took a large bite, relishing the salty-sweet taste of the tomato. She took extra care to  _feel_  the unique texture of the sandwich, the smooth innards of the fruit and the oily mayonnaise.

_'—and slimy. Primus.'_ The voice seemed to shudder and curl in on itself.

She swallowed and took another bite.  _Look on the bright side. If I hadn't talked them out of taking me to a hospital, I would have ordered extra jello just for you._

The voice moaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **¡Qué lío! –** _(Spanish) What a mess!_
> 
> **¿Cómo estás?/Bien. –** _(Spanish) How are you?/Good._
> 
> **Vorn-** _Cybertronian unit of time, approx. 83 years._
> 
> **De prisa. –** _(Spanish) Hurry._
> 
> **Gracias. –** _(Spanish) Thank you._


	3. Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The voice stirred in the back of her mind. For being completely in her head, it made a sound remarkably like someone clearing his throat._
> 
> 'Was that...' _It broke off, sounding curious yet oddly timid._ 'Did you...
> 
> 'Was that... sex?'

_It's like déjà vu all over again._ **_–Yogi Berra_ **

* * *

_The hospital was never quiet. During the day, there were the ever-present murmurs of voices up and down the hall, the clatter of footsteps, the squeak of wheels. At night there were the steps of nurses making their rounds and the buzz of fluorescent lighting and the hum of machinery. Even in her own head she never had silence; the ongoing mumble of that..._ voice _was never quiet, like a TV left on in the next room, and sometimes it would become loud and lucid, as though someone were leaning over her shoulder and speaking in her ear._

_She missed silence._

_Now the various staff were going from room to room, retrieving the lunch trays that they had passed out an hour before. Evelyn's tray was very nearly untouched. The Salisbury steak was missing a corner, and a dent had been made in the mashed potatoes, but the peas and carrots had not been touched. Her juice was the only thing that she had finished completely, and the thought of more was vaguely appealing._

_The jello sat ostracized at the tray's edge; the mere sight of it set her stomach roiling, which was odd since she had enjoyed jello since well before kindergarten. She blamed her surroundings. The scent of disinfectant clung to everything, crawling into her lungs until she doubted she would ever smell anything else, and it tainted everything she placed in her mouth. Even the few varied bouquets around the room had no purchase against the acrid scent._

_A pen had been left on the bedside table. Feeling the numb boredom of the room pressing in on her, she retrieved it, twisting and reaching with her uninjured arm in a movement that pulled at protesting muscles and stressed unhappy bruises and aggravated her bandaged arm._

_The napkin, stained with a blob of gray-brown sauce, presented itself as a convenient canvas, and Evelyn set to doodling. It was difficult, especially since the napkin insisted on twisting and shifting with each movement of the pen, but she persevered._

_It was a very small napkin, but she drew in every available inch. Squiggles. Stick people. Suns, moons, stars. Arabic characters. A handful of Greek letters. Some Japanese_ kanji.  _She did not notice when her tray was finally taken. She vaguely felt the passage of time but only returned to herself when the voice spoke._

'How do you know that symbol?'

_At the bottom corner of the napkin was a strange shape, roughly sketched with a series of skewed, interlacing lines, vaguely square. It looked like a face. Sort of. She frowned. She did not remember seeing it before... at least, not in real life._

_But her dreams had been very strange._

_She set down the pen and considered the little mystery. The ink was blue, but she had the feeling that another color would have been much more suited._

_Red, she thought._

_Yes._

_It would have looked much better in red._

* * *

' _Well, of course_ you _aren't upset. It wasn't your body that was stolen!'_

Evelyn stopped dead on her way across the high school parking lot. Her hands clenched around the bundle of folders in her arms, her eyes narrowing.

_Stop just a moment,_  she thought firmly,  _and_ think _about that statement._

The voice was silent.

"Right..." she breathed.

Hitching her load into a more comfortable position, she made her way into the old brick building. Everything lay silent and empty, but a dull murmur of voices pervaded the school, the combined noise of classes upon classes going on all around. The main office lay just off the lobby, and a bored-looking student looked up from behind the welcome desk as she entered.

"Yeah?" The student's jaw moved steadily around a wad of chewing gum, and an occasional loud  _pop_  rang out in the office.

Evelyn's mind conjured up an image of a cow and superimposed it over the teenager. It fit.

"My name is Evelyn Hughes. I'm here to drop these off with Mr. Ivester."

"'kay." The student reached into a drawer and pulled out a form. "Fill these out and I'll get you a badge, 'kay?"

The student dug around in another drawer while Evelyn nabbed a pen and filled in the blank spaces. A clip-on visitor badge dropped on the counter, and the student sat, staring at Evelyn expectantly. The professor stifled a sigh and handed over the form. The student did not look at it, merely dropped in a wire basket atop a filing cabinet, and gestured at the door to the lobby. "To your right, down the first hallway. Left at the intersection and up the stairs. Ivester's in room two-fifty-three."

"Thank you."

The student was lousy at giving directions. A left turn at the indicated hallway revealed no stairs. She tried the other direction, but that merely led her to another intersection, and she suddenly found herself descending a ramp into the school basement. The fluorescent lights reflected off the institution-white walls and mottled beige floor tiles, and her every movement echoed. She stopped.

Footsteps approached from around a corner, and she moved toward the sound.

_Please be an adult,_  she thought.

A moment later, she revised that:  _Please be an adult with a sense of direction._

' _Hah.'_

She rounded the corner and had just a second's impression of a tall, red-haired someone in a stained t-shirt before the lights overhead flickered and buzzed, and the hallway dropped into darkness.

The voice made an incoherent noise of surprise, and Evelyn squawked as something big, warm, and of the approximate softness of a brick wall plowed into her and sent her sprawling. The files scattered with the sound of a flock of birds taking flight, and the brick wall let out a loud curse and fell atop her.

The next few moments were a muddled jumble of tangled limbs and crumpling papers and many varied versions of  _ow_  and  _sorry_  and  _oomph_  and  _get off_. From surrounding classrooms came a chorus of yells and loud clamoring noises as classes were disrupted by the blackout.

"Jesus." The wall smelled of aftershave and motor oil. It finally managed push itself away without planting its hands in her stomach or... elsewhere. "Jesus," it repeated. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

Evelyn sat up slowly, cradling her arm and panting, staring blindly into the dark. She placed her hand on the cold floor to steady herself and felt one of the scattered papers wrinkle and crackle beneath her palm. She took a deep breath. "Ah... Yes. Fine."

"Damn blackouts." Crackling sounds sounded from the wall's direction as it shifted position, and Evelyn winced.  _There goes one file._

"Perfect." She sighed and curled her legs close to her body, rubbing at her thigh. "Third one this month?"

"Fourth."

She grimaced.

"Perfect," she said again. Several long minutes of silence passed, broken only by the raised voices from surrounding classroom and the crackle of paper when one of them shifted.

The voice stirred in the back of her mind. For being completely in her head, it made a sound remarkably like someone clearing his throat.

' _Was that...'_  It broke off, sounding curious yet oddly timid.  _'Did you..._

' _Was that... sex?'_

Evelyn's throat closed around an indignant squeak. The lights chose that moment to return to life.

* * *

A steaming cup of coffee was set before her, and she smiled at the giver. The man grinned back, laugh-lines around his eyes deepening with the expression.

"Doing better?" he asked.

"Much."

"Never seen anyone quite that shade of red before. I thought you were having an attack or something."

"Or something," she said wryly.  _You are_ never _watching TV_ ever again.

' _You're the one who watches soap operas.'_

_Shut up._

The small office, even smaller than her little corner of Morris Hall, was piled high with papers and knickknacks and boxes and a great variety of mechanical parts. The walls were plastered with pictures of cars and motorcycles with the occasional newspaper clipping thrown in. A framed diploma leaned awkwardly to one side in its little corner behind the desk, the name  _Christopher M. Stephens_  boldly printed in decorative, curling letters.

A Plexiglass window dominated one wall, looking out on an expansive room filled with several cars in differing states of assembly and repair. High school students clustered around the vehicles, tampering with various parts. More students stood near one of the walls, working with different power tools that threw sparks and let out shrieks and bellows that echoed in the cavernous space. The entire scene was highlighted by the brilliant sunlight streaming in the open garage doors at the opposite side of the room, looking out on an empty gravel lot somewhere behind the school.

"I'm pretty lucky, I guess," said the man abruptly.

Evelyn looked away from her examination of the garage and fixed him with a questioning look.

"This classroom," he said. "With these blackouts happening every week, most of the classes get shut down. With the longer ones, kids just sit in the dark and stew. Down here, we can just roll our class outside and keep right on. Minus the power tools, of course."

"I'll bet the students are thrilled," said Evelyn.

He laughed. "Maybe. These are the kids you don't want bored, for sure."

Evelyn made a small noise of agreement, taking a sip of her coffee and savoring the warmth as it slid down her throat. Her gaze drifted to the dejected pile of wrinkled, scuffed folders set on the corner of the desk. Her mouth twisted in a frown.

"Sorry about that," said the man.

"Not your fault. Thank you for helping me gather it back up. Most of it isn't even necessary. All Mr. Ivester wanted was a set of lecture notes and some pointers, but one of the secretaries got a little copier-happy, and... Well,  _I_ don't need them."

"Ivester's a pack-rat, and he thinks paper is sacred. He'll give them a good home. I can even have one of my kids run it up for you." He eyed the files, taking in the perfect shoe-print on the topmost cover. "'Course, it'd probably be good if you wrote a note explaining the mess, so I can get my kid back afterwards. There's lots of paperwork for losing a student."

Evelyn laughed, and he handed her a stack of post-it notes and a pen. While she sketched out a short note of apology/explanation, he leaned over and rapped sharply on the window, making a  _come here_ sign to someone outside.

The door opened, admitting a tomboyish young woman clad in stained overalls and work-gloves. She looked suspiciously at Evelyn before turning to her teacher. "Whatever it is, I din' do it."

The man's expression was one fond amusement.

"Kyra," he said, "this is Professor Hughes from the college. Ms. Hughes," he turned to Evelyn, "this is Kyra Bryant, one of my best and longest-enrolled students."

"Thanks bunches," grumbled the girl.

Evelyn extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you, Kyra."

The girl's grin widened into a smirk as she accepted the handshake. "It's how the Japanese pronounce  _killer."_

The voice broke into a long, loud bout of hysterical laughter.

Evelyn blinked, glanced at the teacher (who had one hand over his eyes), and smiled back at the girl. "It also means  _lady_  in Greek."

The girl looked disappointed, then noticed the glove upon Evelyn's arm. "Whassat? You got leprosy or something?"

"I was in a car accident. It protects my skin while I heal."

"Drunk driver?"

"Don't remember."

"Sucks for you."

"I think so."

The voice trailed off into unsteady chortles.  _'I like her,'_  it declared.

The man looked at his student, one eyebrow arched. "If it's not too much trouble, would you run that pile of papers up to Mr. Ivester's room, Killer?"

"Why not?" She scooped the pile into her arms, and Evelyn reached up to stick the note on the uppermost file. "Oh, and Mike said to tell you that the new hood is a no-go."

"Huh. I'll come look. And no joy-walking around the school, either. Straight there, straight back, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." The girl breezed out the door with a negligent wave of one hand.

Evelyn looked toward the teacher, who was massaging his temples.

"Nice kid," she said.

"Nice, sure," he agreed wryly. He stood. "Well, would you like to meet our project?"

"'Meet' it?"

"Yeah. His name's Franken-vette." He grinned. "C'mon. You'll see."

* * *

_Franken-vette_  was as aptly named a car as any Evelyn had ever come across. Doors, trunk, side-panels, everything was of mis-matched colors. The seats were of different colors and material. The hood and dashboard were missing, exposing the internals of the partially-complete engine, and one of the tires was off, the car held off the ground by a jack.

A trio of students stood off to one side, holding a large slab of metal up on its side and talking amongst themselves. They looked up at their teacher's and Evelyn's approach.

"Mr. Stephens, it's not going to work," said the oldest-looking of the three, a solemn young man with a shaggy mop of hair that continually fell into his eyes. "We've tried everything, but these dents aren't coming out."

The teacher explained to a confused Evelyn. "We check all the junkyards for parts that might work with Franken-vette and see if they'll donate them. Some of the parts need a little work, but we're really close to finishing up. A few more engine parts and some cosmetic pieces, and we can take him for a test drive." He turned back to the group. "Well, Mike, let's have a look."

Evelyn hung back as Mr. Stephens joined the trio in turning the metal various ways, chattering away in what sounded like a different language. She rubbed at her ear, trying to soothe the annoying buzzing, ringing noise that had grown steadily louder as she stood in the noisy classroom.

"What about hammering it out?"

"Nothing. Janice even borrowed a sledge from the construction class, and it didn't make a scratch."

"I'll be." The teacher rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well... Damn. Set it to one side for now. Shame, too. It's in good condition, except for those dents."

"Yes, sir."

The students joined forces and lifted the sizeable piece of metal off the ground, and Evelyn saw that it was a hood painted a glossy black, perfectly sleek except at one corner where four dents, each as wide as her fist, lay side by side, wrinkling the metal in a way she had never seen before. She took a few steps nearer out of curiosity. The ringing in her ears grew.

Her eyes caught on a flash of purple, and light shone off of a strange symbol at the hood's center, a shape vaguely like a combination of an upside-down triangle and a chevron, creating a stylized face glaring out at the world, looming in her vision.

The hair along her arms and neck prickled.

The voice made an incoherent noise of surprise.  _'Primus in the Pit.'_

Something touched her shoulder, and she jumped. Mr. Stephens pulled away, looking concerned. "Are you alright?"

She looked back at the hood. The students had leaned it up against the wall, and the 'face' stared at her from upside down. "Do... do you know what that symbol is?"

"The purple thing? Nah. The kids and I were wondering that, too. You seen it before?"

She rubbed at her ear again. The machinery was loud, echoing all around her. "I'm not sure."

"Probably a new gang. Looks kind of neat, doesn't it?"

Evelyn made a noncommittal noise, following the man as he led her around to other parts of the room, introducing her to various students, expounding on the uses of various pieces of machinery. Evelyn listened with half an ear. The symbol seemed to hover before her eyes.

The face did not look  _'neat'._ It looked downright scary, like a venomous snake grinning at some poor, doomed mouse.

* * *

As she pushed open the door of the high school lobby, Evelyn shook her head and frowned. Her ears were ringing again, much louder than before.

_It's amazing that whole class isn't deaf,_  she thought ungraciously, exiting into the muggy warmth of the afternoon.

A black car was parked just outside, gleaming flawlessly in the bright sunshine, all sleek curves and lithe lines, and Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks, staring. A faint smudge of purple could be seen on its hood... or was it a trick of the light? An odd flutter grew in her stomach and morphed swiftly into outright churning. She could feel the blood as it drained from her face, leaving her lightheaded.

The voice  _growled._

The windows were tinted too darkly to see whether the vehicle was occupied. Just beyond it, in the first row of parking spaces, her car awaited.

Irrationally uneasy, Evelyn walked slowly and carefully around the back of the car, giving it an almost ridiculously wide berth as though it were a chained dog, snapping and snarling. The ringing in her ears grew as she passed by and then faded when she scurried the last meters to her car, fumbling with her keys to open the door.

Behind her, an engine purred to life.

Her keys fell to the ground, and her breath caught in her throat.

There was the subtle creak and click of shifting gears. The purr grew to a rumble and moved away. Tires rasped on rough pavement. Evelyn stared down at her keys and listened.

Around the edge of the parking lot. To the exit. Pause. The engine thrummed, grew to a roar that set the air vibrating, and drew away down the road, accelerating fast and fading slowly into the distance.

Her eyes slid closed, and she sagged against the hot metal of her car's roof and side.

_I'm so messed up,_  she thought bleakly.  _God help me, I really am insane._

For once, the voice was silent.


	4. Alice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The voice stirred in the back of her mind for the first time in days upon days, and it sounded pissed._
> 
> 'This,' _it said,_ 'is exactly what I was talking about when I said "I told you so."'

**_Morpheus:_ ** _I imagine that right now, you're feeling a bit like Alice. Hmm? Tumbling down the rabbit hole?_  
**_Neo:_ ** _You could say that._  
**_Morpheus:_ ** _I see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he is expecting to wake up. Ironically, that's not far from the truth._  
**-The Matrix**

* * *

' _You have to be careful.'_

Evelyn typed a few more figures into the little pocket-sized calculator and scribbled the total into her account book. She rifled through a stack of old bank statements, mouth pursed in a frown. The latest bill from the psychiatrist's office had arrived, and that never boded well for her funds.

' _I know you don't want to listen, but this is serious. You—_ We  _are in danger.'_

She pulled out another statement and compared the numbers to those in her account book. Grumbling under her breath at the vagaries of money and math, she erased one of the rows and reached for the calculator again.

Being insane was  _expensive._

' _Those guys are bad news. I don't remember a lot, I know, but I remember_ them.  _Are you even listening to me?'_

Evelyn paused in her accounting and sighed.  _I knew it._

' _What?'_

_This is the part where you start telling me to do weird things, like bite myself or jump out of windows or sacrifice baby kittens to the Old Ones, am I right?_

' _... sacrifice_ what _to the_ who?'

_You know, maybe I'm not crazy._ Evelyn placed the pencil's eraser between her teeth, nibbling thoughtfully.  _Maybe you're my muse, one of those weird voices like authors have. I should write a book. I don't think anyone's written about possessed cars before._

_It would be cheaper than therapy, that's for sure._

She got the very distinct impression that, had the voice had eyes, it would have rolled them.  _'I'm just going to say "I told you so" now to save hassle later. That alright with you?'_

_Very thoughtful._

She was midway through re-tallying the balance column when the lights flickered to black and the hum of happily-running appliances stuttered and faded to silence.

"Oh, for crying out loud."

' _I wasn't planning on using it so soon,'_  said the voice helpfully, _'but you can insert that_ "I told you so"  _right here, if you like.'_

* * *

The news had been getting steadily more depressing with each passing day. Various members of the community condemned the local power companies for failing to solve the problem of the repeat blackouts. Area hospitals were buying extra backup generators to deal with the sporadic electricity supply, and there were reports of clean-up efforts after a gas-line explosion along a road near the warehousing district.

' _You humans are some of the densest creatures I have ever come across,'_  griped the voice acidly. _'No wonder you can't come up with faster-than-light travel.'_

Evelyn rolled her eyes.  _We invented chocolate. We win._

' _A sudden rash of blackouts and explosions spreads across your city, and you don't think that's just a_ little _weird?'_

_I'm watching TV—against my will, I might add—with a figment of my imagination that thinks it's the spirit of the car that nearly made me into road-kill. How exactly should I define 'weird'?_

' _... all doubts about your mental state aside, my point still stands.'_

She slumped lower on the couch, eyes dry and aching with tiredness.  _Listening to you yammer twenty-four/seven is almost enough for me to give the pills another go._

' _Like you haven't threatened that before.'_ The voice snorted.  _'Please. They didn't do anything except make you loopy. And nauseated. And by extension, make_ me _loopy and nauseated... something I had never had to deal with before this mess, thank you so much.'_

_You'd be quiet, though._ She rubbed at her eyes and glanced at the VCR clock: 11:48pm.  _Right. That's it._  She retrieved the remote from the side table.  _Bedtime._

The screen showed a female reporter standing somewhere in the industrial district of Mason City, the battered street behind her littered with metal parts and fragments of glass, policemen scurrying back and forth in the background.  _"—scene discovered this morning near the Beaumont Synthetics manufacturing plant—"_

The camera began to pan around the scene as Evelyn hit the power button.

The screen winked to black, and Evelyn suddenly knew what it felt like to have a bomb detonate inside one's skull.

' _TURN THAT BACK ON!'_

Pain lanced between her temples like a lightning bolt. The remote dropped to the floor from suddenly numb fingers, and she gaped dumbly at the dirty beige carpet, gasping.

"What...?"

' _Now!'_

Pins-and-needles spread from her skull and down her neck in a wave, extending throughout her arm. Her arm moved, retrieving the remote and turning the TV back on, the motion stiff and clumsy. The same pins and needles burned within her neck, and she found herself staring at the television screen stupidly through tear-blurred eyes.

A moment passed. The voice made a thoughtful noise.

' _... and then there were three,'_ it murmured.

On the screen was the image of a black sports car, torn to shreds. Silver innards had been twisted beyond recognition and thrown the length and breadth of the street, and entire panels were missing. Puddles of fluid pooled around its base, mingling with fire-retardant foam. The tires were in ribbons, one gone completely. What pieces still remained attached to the vehicle were bent, broken, and otherwise mutilated beyond repair. The hood had been literally ripped in half and bore the same strange 'wrinkle' marks that Evelyn had noticed on the hood in the high school automotives class nearly a week past.

Half of the familiar purple sigil stood out clearly on the twisted piece of metal.

' _Primus,'_  said the voice admiringly.  _'Somebody's_ very  _unhappy.'_

The pins-and-needles receded, and Evelyn slumped against the cushions, gasping. She blinked stupidly down at her arm. Slowly she dared move it, turning it this way and that, then covered her eyes and shuddered.

' _Hey...'_  Tentative. Curious. Concerned.

Evelyn shook her head and stood, throwing the remote to the floor. She left the TV on and strode toward the bathroom.

' _Hey. Hey, now. You okay?'_

The medicine cabinet squealed in protest as she wrenched the door open. Bottles of aspirin and allergy medicine and antacids and vitamins and herbal supplements stood before her in neat little rows. Many plummeted with loud clatters and rattles into the sink and onto the floor as she pushed them aside, reaching for a nondescript little prescription bottle, bright orange and topped with white, hiding in the back. Her hands shook as she drew it out.

The dosage prescribed was one pill every six hours. She took two.

' _Hey!'_ Alarmed now.  _'Calm down. I'm sorry, alright?'_

She gripped the counter to keep upright. Her stomach roiled, her heart fluttering like a bird attempting escape. For a moment she thought the pills would make an abrupt, ugly reappearance, but she clenched her jaw and swallowed down the nausea. Her throat was constricted, breath hitching in her chest, and she blinked against the burn in her eyes. Before her, the woman in the mirror was pale as a proverbial ghost.

' _I didn't know...'_

She left the mess in the bathroom and did not bother with undressing before she climbed into her bed. The covers were cold, and she pulled the comforter up to her chin, then over her head completely as she curled on her side.

' _I didn't know I could do... that...'_

Her stomach burned as the medicine began to break apart, and the world blurred around the edges into soothing, fuzzy shapelessness. Shudders faded to shivering, then to stillness. Something burning-hot slid down her face and onto her pillow, but it was harder and harder to care.

' _I'm sorry.'_

* * *

**To:**  Evelyn M. Hughes -Thursday, 10 September 2009 15:41:55-0400

**Subject:**  Told you so!

**From:**  Miguel Alvarez

Professora,

I told you there were pictures of them!

M

PS- Do you know when you're coming back yet? Richardson keeps mixing up 'phonemes' and 'phonics' and it's driving us  _nuts._  o.O;

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Scan and Save to Computer

* * *

The message was three days old.

Evelyn gazed at the file link detachedly. The cursor hovered over it, the little white hand appearing to beckon. Closing her eyes, she tapped the touch-pad.

Drawing in a deep breath, she finished the download and unzipped the file. Eight photos appeared in the new file, and she opened them in a slide-show viewer and scrolled through.

Each photo was a different size and quality from the others, all from different sources. A few had date-stamps in the corner and were taken from a height: traffic-light cameras, perhaps. The rest were from street-level, all but one with a separate subject in the foreground and the car happening to appear elsewhere in the frame.

All were black and in perfect condition. All with darkly tinted windows. All with the purple symbol emblazoned on the hood.

She studied the pictures. She had no particular interest in cars, but even she could tell that there were only five models to be seen in the eight images... and one matched the car that she had seen at the high school.

_Though, if the hood at the school and the wreck on TV are anything to go by, there's only... three... now..._

The voice's words came back to her:  _and then there were three._

She leaned back in her chair and closed her laptop.

_I'm falling down the rabbit hole,_  she thought and then giggled quietly to herself.

* * *

"Chickadee, you are bluer than a beaver with braces on. What's wrong?"

A glass of clear amber liquid appeared beneath her nose, and Evelyn shied back. She blinked at the woman sitting across from her. "What?"

Her companion grinned. "Anyone who looks as unhappy as you do obviously needs a stiff drink."

Evelyn considered the drink before pushing it away. "I can't, Jamie. Doctor's orders."

"Doctor?" The other woman looked doubtful. "What doctor?"

"I'm on medication. Nothing important," she reassured. "Leftovers from the crash."

"Right," drawled the other. "Whatever you say."

The bar was almost empty. A few people were scattered here and there, some seated at the bar, a group over in the corner playing pool. The jukebox was currently playing some slow, mellow country song that seemed to have set the mood for the entire establishment. Evelyn and her friend were seated near the large window at the front of the building, looking out on the red-orange tinted streets of downtown Mason, shadows lengthening as the evening sun descended.

"Thanks for the night out," said Evelyn at last. "I have been kind of down lately, haven't I?"

"Any further down and you'd be in China. What's eatin' you? You were fine up 'til a couple weeks ago."

_What's 'eating' me? I feel like I've fallen into_ The Matrix,  _that's what._

"I'm just tired of having nothing to do. There's only so much vacation someone can take, you know?"

The other woman arched an eyebrow. "Shoot, you can come teach my classes any time, and I'll take a week or two off."

"You have no idea how tempting that sounds." She looked down at the drink again.  _Six hours is almost up. I could catch a ride with Jamie..._  Her stomach flip-flopped with the familiar stirrings of nausea, and she turned away from the glass with a bitter frown.  _Right. Nevermind._

"Somethin' wrong with your ears, Chickadee?"

Evelyn froze and realized that she had been rubbing her ears again. She mumbled something to the effect of 'it's nothing' and avoided her friend's concerned gaze.

She looked out the window. A black car sat parked outside, no more than two meters from where she sat, and the purple face grinned hungrily at her from its place upon the hood.

"—vy?  _Evy?_  What's gotten into you?"

"How long's that car been out there?"

"Wha—? How in blue blazes am I supposed to know? What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just—it's nothing."

She reached for the drink with new resolve.

* * *

The black car had disappeared by the time the two women exited the bar.

"Where'd you park?" asked Jamie, looking up and down the nighttime street with all the wariness of a veteran city-dweller. "I'm just a li'l ways down the road if you want a ride."

Evelyn smiled. "That's all right, Jamie. It was just one drink."

"I  _noticed,_  Miss 'Doctor's Orders.'" The woman rolled her eyes heavenward. "I cannot tell you what good it does my nerves to know that you passed up medical school for a field where people's lives do  _not_  hang in the balance."

"I aim to please."

"Hm." Jamie's car keys clanged and jangled as she pulled the sizeable bundle of keys, key chains, mini-cards and key-clips out of her purse. Evelyn eyed the monstrosity.

"Have you weeded that thing out at all since middle school?"

"Chickadee, you don't mess with what works."

"A battering-ram and a key will both open my apartment, but I know which one is easier on my back."

"Funny girl." Jamie embraced the shorter woman and gave her a quick peck on one cheek. "Are you sure you don't want a ride?"

"I'm in the lot just behind here. I'll be fine."

* * *

_I should have walked with Jamie._

Flickering streetlights cast dancing orange and black patches over the narrow side-street, catching on bits of broken bottles and old metal refuse. Chill winds twined through the alleyways, rattling the plastic of garbage-bags and catching at old pieces of paper, sending them skittering across the cement like alien insects. The short section of road was deserted, not even a stray cat to be seen slinking between the shadows.

Evelyn tugged her coat tighter around herself and leaned into the wind, stumbling as it tangled her skirt around her legs. Bits of hair whipped into her eyes, stinging her skin, and she blew at them in an ineffective attempt to shoo them back into order, unwilling to remove her hands from the warmth of her pockets.

She rounded the final corner to the little out-of-the-way parking lot and paused apprehensively upon seeing that all but the furthest one of the pole-mounted lights were not working.

Her car was there, though, in plain sight and with no other vehicles anywhere near. She pulled her keys from her pocket and strode forward, hair prickling at the back of her neck.

Her ears were ringing again.

The rumbling purr of a powerful engine came from the deep shadows at the far end of the lot, and faint smears of orange light caught on glistening black paint as a car pulled smoothly out of hiding, crept across the lot, and insinuated itself neatly between Evelyn and her car.

Even the deep shadows could not hide the familiar sigil upon the hood.

Evelyn swallowed convulsively.

_I guess this answers where it disappeared to._

Hands shaking and white-knuckled, her keys jingling like a set of hand-bells, she stepped toward the rear of the vehicle to go around. The car reversed smoothly and reinstated itself in her path.

Her stomach slithered a few inches lower in her abdomen whilst her heart crawled higher in her throat. The ringing was louder than ever, and Evelyn took a step backwards without thinking about it, followed by another, clenching her purse against herself as though it were a shield.

The car turned and followed, smooth and sleek, the engine's rumble morphing into the growl of a predator on the hunt. The face leered at her.

_This isn't right. It's just some kids, some gang._

_There's no such thing as possessed cars._

She stumbled backwards, away from the jet-black vehicle, only to trip and fall heavily on her backside with a loud  _oof!_  when her feet caught on an uneven piece of concrete. The car inched nearer, bumper looming in her vision until she could feel the warmth of the engine even as she scrambled away in a graceless crab-walk, hands scraping on the pavement.

_Oh, God. Oh, God. Please be a dream. Please, please, oh, please be a dream. Let me be in the hospital, or delirious, or unconscious in an alley somewhere. Anywhere but here..._

And then the car began to  _twist._

Evelyn stared, uncomprehending, as pieces folded and rearranged, panels flipping out, parts tucking under, metal groaning and joints whirring and over it all resounding this hair-raising electronic  _screech._

The car had eyes, red eyes glaring at her, and it was no longer a car but instead a hunched, twisted thing looming over her that had no shape in the dim ambient light of the city night.

And then it spoke, voice booming and grating like stone grinding on stone, loud enough to make her ears ring even more than they already were.

" **Where is the key?"**

_Somebody._

_Help me._

The voice stirred in the back of her mind for the first time in days upon days, and it sounded pissed _._

' _This,'_  it said,  _'is_ exactly  _what I was talking about when I said "I told you so."'_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Phonemes**   
>  _– in a nutshell, the individual sounds that make up a language_
> 
> **Phonics**  
>  _– a method of teaching younger children how to speak and read a language ("Hooked on Phonics worked for me!")_


	5. Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The two giants gazed down at her. One had no mouth or nose, its eyes covered with a glowing red visor. The other smiled an ugly smile, scarlet eyes seeming to glow brighter._
> 
> _"It's online."_
> 
> _And Evelyn was suddenly very much awake._

_"Luck is my middle name," said Rincewind, indistinctly. "Mind you, my first name is Bad."_ **  
– Interesting Times, Terry Pratchet**

* * *

'This planet sure is... colorful.'

_Evelyn pulled the thin, hospital-issue robe tighter around herself, tucking her slipper-clad feet beneath the metal bench and focusing on the warmth of the sunshine that battled against the ambient chill of the early-morning air. The hospital garden, set at the center of the hospital itself, surrounded by walls of glass, steel, and cement, was at the peak of bloom, pansies and daffodils as splashes of color lining the few simple pathways shaded by the white-dappled branches of flowering dogwoods. A few yards down the path, an orderly stood at attention beside the metal and glass doors that led back into the sterile prison that Evelyn had already endured for so long._

Never seen flowers before? _she wondered._

_It was probably unhealthy to acknowledge the voice in any way, but it was hard to care when there was no one else to speak with, and those she could speak with only communicated via medical jargon. Also, if she humored it, the voice made quite the nteresting conversation companion._

'No. We don't have organics on my planet.'

So, you're an  _alien_ car.  _Evelyn grinned a little to herself, turning to hide the expression from her watchdog._

'Mech,'  _said the voice,_ 'I'm a mech, and we have hover-vehicles, not "cars."'

Hoity-toity,  _she replied._

_Her ribs protested as she bent down, plucking a dew-damp pansy blossom and twirling it between her fingers. Little droplets of water fell upon her hand and wrist, pin-pricks of cold that sent goose bumps down her spine._

Mech? So... you mean a robot? What were you, a were-car? Alien robot by day, car by night?

'Not... exactly. We change when we want to.'

A transforming car.  _She fingered the gold and purple petals._ A transforming car that is also an alien robot from a galaxy far, far away...  _She laughed quietly, turning it into a soft cough when the orderly looked her way._

'What's so funny?'

_The orderly was approaching, the familiar all-business smile firmly in place. Recess was over. Evelyn cradled the flower in her palm, still grinning to herself._

No wonder you didn't know what a stoplight is.

* * *

Her arm and ribs hurt, and she had a headache.

"Where the slag is that glitch? It was a simple grab'n'go."

"Chill, Torque. This is Blockade we're talkin' 'bout. He prob'ly got lost."

"Even the Blockhead knows better than to be joyriding with that berserker 'bot running loose."

She squinted her eyes open cautiously and found herself staring at gray, an entire plain of fuzzy, bumpy gray, and upon shifting slightly she decided that it was concrete and that her cheek had been pressed against it for quite some time. It was hard to swallow, and she shivered convulsively; it was very, very cold.

_''Bout slaggin' time you woke up.'_

Her feet were freezing, too, which was odd.

_I... shoes...?_

"We should have taken the stupid squishy to the ship straight off. None of this skulking around scrap."

"An' put it where?"

"The brig, Offbeat. Where else do you put a prisoner?"

"The bars are way too far apart, T-man. If it's big enough for a turbo-rat to get through, it's more'n big enough for a scrawny li'l organic to use."

_'Haven't you rebooted yet?'_

_No shoes... I was wearing shoes... with..._

_"What's wrong, Chickadee?"_

She blinked again, some of the blurriness clearing. Her ears were filled with the sounds of a thousand bells ringing, ringing, ringing, enough to make her dizzy were she not already suffering vertigo. _Jamie._

Something was around her neck. Something hard and heavy and cold was wrapped tightly around her neck, pressing into her windpipe alarmingly each time she swallowed. She moved one hand, cold fingertips trailing along rough concrete until she touched the object: rounded metal, a tube about two-inches in diameter.

_'Pipe, slow one. It's a piece of pipe. Did they knock your processor loose?'_

_Pipe... bar?_

_Bar with Jamie. Chickadee. Stupid. Not a bird. Drinks—no drinks. Medication. Pills for the voice... voice?_

_Voice?_

A soft noise, akin to a sigh. _'Yeah. I'm here.'_

_Here?_

She focused further across the gray. The plain of concrete stretched for yards upon yards, meeting a shadowed wall. Her gaze traveled up to a row of windows, cracked and coated with grime, lit from the other side by brilliant sunlight. Dust motes danced in the air, gold and silver particles following the light's path. Overhead was cast in complete shadow, chains and pulleys and other miscellany dangling from beyond reach of her sight.

_Big,_ was her first thought. Then came,  _garage?_

_'Warehouse,'_ corrected the voice.  _'Big slaggin' warehouse.'_ Another sigh.  _'Primus, I think they broke her.'_

"He's going to use his comm. I know it."

"Even Blocks ain't that much of an idiot."

"Would you put your energon on that?"

Laughter, rich and deep and echoing in the expansive room. "I ain't that big an idiot, either, T."

She shifted, free hand splayed upon the cold floor as she tried to move her gloved arm from beneath the burden of her body, scar-tissue burning with sudden pain. A tiny gasp puffed past her lips, and she jerked away from the pain, only succeeding in rolling onto her back. Something clattered noisily with the movement, and she found herself lying with something narrow and bumpy pressing up against her shoulder.

_'Way to go, scrap-for-brains.'_

She looked over, blinking dazedly. A length of industrial chain lay upon the cement, running from beneath her to an iron support beam set in the floor. The chain had been tied and twisted around itself in a knot, and beyond it stood what appeared to be... feet?

_Big feet,_ she thought.

Her gaze traveled up the two pairs of legs that were attached to the feet. One pair was black and red, the other black and white. Legs led to waists, and waists led to chests. Each chest was shaped very strangely, broad and boxy, and they seemed to be…  _very_  far up. There was a fuzzy purple triangle at the center of each chest.

Prickles of alarm spread down her neck and throughout her body, and the two purple smudges resolved themselves into purple faces, glaring down at her.

_Somethin' wrong with your ears, Chickadee?_

_How long's that car been out there?_

_What's gotten into you?_

_... just a block... I'll be fine._

**_Where is the key?_ **

The two giants gazed down at her. One had no mouth or nose, its eyes covered with a glowing red visor. The other smiled an ugly smile, scarlet eyes seeming to glow brighter.

"It's online."

And Evelyn was suddenly very much awake.

* * *

The concrete vibrated as the red and black giant, the one with a bare face and eyes, took two large steps toward her. Evelyn scrambled away, chain clattering and ringing on the concrete, her arm burning. Her neck wrenched as the cold metal around her throat jerked, the chain running in a taut line from somewhere behind her neck to the support pillar. Her stomach roiled, and she gaped in disbelief.

_A leash!_

The giant laughed at her, a harsh grating rumble that hurt her ears and made her cringe closer to the floor, staring up, up, up at the behemoth.

_It's not real. It's not real, it_ can't _be real. I'm dreaming!_

_I'm in the loony bin. I'm unconscious in a damn psych-ward somewhere, and this is me tripping on whatever pills they've forced down my throat. I'm up in the sky with Lucy and her diamonds, and some poor nurse is coming in daily to change my diaper and make sure I don't get bedsores like Uncle Randal—_

_'Would you_ shut up _already? It's not some slaggin' dream!'_

The giant crossed its boxy arms over its broad chest and tilted its head, smirking. "How do you like your accommodations? Your race has interesting ideas on keeping lesser species in their place, wouldn't you say?"

The giant dropped to one knee, things within it hissing and humming and creaking with the movement. A giant black hand reached out, looming in her vision, and she pressed against the floor, shuddering and clenching her eyes closed. A strange, high-pitched mewling echoed in the empty building; her throat tingled with pins and needles, and the sound cut off.

_'Hush,'_ said the voice, sounding calm and reassuring and tense all at once.  _'If they wanted you dead, they could have done it ten times over by now.'_

Something heavy and hard and startlingly warm wrapped around her torso and pulled her upright, chain jangling and legs dangling and bare feet scraping against the concrete. Her shoulders and arms were pushed upward, like a child picked up beneath the arms by an adult. Vibrations traveled through the metal and into her body as the giant rumbled again.

"Offbeat, I don't think it likes me."

The whirring, humming, grinding noises grew in volume, and her feet lost all contact with the floor, air rushing past her face and fanning her hair as her stomach dropped out of her body. The chain rang with the movement, its weight pulling upon her neck.

_Gonnadropmegonnadropmepleasenononogonnadropme..._

Something blunt and metallic prodded at her cheek, and her eyes snapped open of their own volition. She stared down a finger that was easily longer and thicker than her own arm. Beyond it, the giant's face leered at her from a disturbingly short distance away.

"C'mon, squishy. Say hello."

"Torque, put the poor thing down. Yer gonna' give it pump failure."

"You're no fun."

The ringing in her ears had become a high-pitched shriek running just below the normal level of hearing, but the fist around her body tightened, stealing her breath and sending her heart high in her throat, throbbing with panic. Dark metal lips parted, revealing teeth-like pieces of white metal within the giant's mouth.

"Torque!" A second hand gripped the giant's wrist with a booming clash of metal on metal, and the black and red giant sneered at the black and white.

"Back off, 'Beat."

"You deactivate it, and it's yer aft in the smeltin' vats."

"We don't need it. All we need is the key. Get the key, and we get out of here. Compute?"

"Ya don't even know if it  _has_ the key. It's just a little critter with a weird energy reading. Put it  _down."_

Evelyn stared at the two giants. The black and red robot's mouth twisted in a sneer, then its glowing eyes narrowed and it smirked. "Fine," it said, and let go.

A shriek of terror ripped from Evelyn's throat at the sudden feeling of weightlessness, but she had scarcely begun to fall when she was caught again, in a different set of hands.

"Predictable, T."

She was not gripped around the middle this time. Instead, the black and white giant held her curled form atop the palm of its hand, its second hand cupped around her as though shielding her.

The black and red giant made a sound of disgust. "Fine. It's just going to die on the way back, anyway."

Evelyn's shudders redoubled, breath coming in unsteady little hiccups. She pressed her arms against her rebelling stomach, bending until her forehead nearly touched her knees. The chain slid forward over her shoulder and clanged loudly against the giant's hand.

_'Breathe. Just breathe. It'll be alright.'_

_It's_ not _alright. Nothing's right, none of this, not right at all..._

"Well, I can take care o' that, at least." Air stirred, and there was a sense of something large moving over her, and then pressure at the back of her neck. "Keep still."

A choked squeak was all that escaped her, and the metal around her neck pulled and tightened before falling off completely, banging against the metal palm before the weight of the chain dragged it over the side and it clattered upon the floor so very far below.

One hand rose and rubbed at her throat gently. The skin felt hot to the touch, tender and bruised. She swallowed against the discomfort and felt as though she were about to be sick.

"If it makes a run for it, you get to chase it down."

"Whatever you say, T." Something touched Evelyn between her shoulders and brushed all the way down her back, tracing along her spine. Then it lifted and did it again. And again. "T, ya big glitch, ya scared it straight outta' its processor."

"You always were soft. Planning on adopting it? Making it a cage next to your berth?"

"Maybe a little nest. Can organics take energon? I could feed it scraps."

_Not a pet,_  thought Evelyn, a seed of indignity sprouting far, far below the layers upon layers of fear and panic clouding her mind.

The stroking stopped and a light weight covered her back, as though the robot had covered her with its hand. She closed her eyes.

"T, ya ain't gonna' like this."

"Did the squishy die?"

"No. Blockade just commed. He's less 'n a quarter-mile out."

"...  _Slaggit._  That  _slagging glitch."_  A loud series of clicks and clanks echoed in the building, the sound of someone prepping a rifle magnified times a hundred, and Evelyn dared not look, afraid of what she might see. "He knows what 'running silent' means. If that psycho 'bot doesn't kill him,  _I will."_

The black and white giant patted Evelyn's back lightly like an old woman soothing a tense cat. "Keep yer head. It's two-to-one, now—three-to-one if Block makes it in one piece."

"You saw what that thing did to Dynamo. You really want to see it in action?"

"Not in particular."

Silence fell in the building, broken only by the occasional humming, whining, grinding movement from one of the giants. Evelyn opened her eyes and stared at the thick black fingers curled around her. Seconds ticked by, turning to minutes, and not even the voice spoke.

The grumbling rumble of an engine approached, accompanied by the sound of crunching gravel. A horn beeped, and a voice called from outside. "Hey, guys! I got the stuff from town. You wouldn't believe the traff _erk."_

Silence. The two giants seemed frozen, and Evelyn lay frozen with them.

Steps. Heavy, slow steps, coming closer, first crunching upon gravel, then thudding upon grass or dirt, echoing Evelyn's heartbeat.

From outside, the distinct sound of a gun cocking.

The white and black giant's hands tightened around Evelyn. The red and black giant had time only to hiss a venomous  _"slag"_  before the world exploded in light and burning heat.


	6. Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You..._  Breath rushed in and out of her lungs in a forced, measured rhythm. Her eyes traveled without her permission, focusing on obstacles, on the unnatural flashes of light passing overhead, as though she were watching a point-of-view shot in a movie.  _What are you doing?_
> 
> ' _Running?'_ Behind her, she could hear the thunder of the giant's steps as it followed her, one step to her every three.
> 
>  _But... but... this is_ my _body!_ Evelyn argued stupidly. The itching, tingling sensation covered her from head to foot, steady and infuriating.
> 
> ' _Well, it wasn't like you were doing anything useful with it!'_

_"Who said anything about panicking?" snapped Arthur. "This is still just the culture shock. You wait till I've settled down into the situation and found my bearings. Then I'll start panicking."_

–  ** _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams_**

* * *

The voice was cursing, loudly and at length, the only sound Evelyn could hear beyond the ringing in her ears and a dull, rushing roar overlaid by the panicked drumming of her heart. She lay on her belly, legs hanging off into space, her arms wrapped around one of the giant's black fingers, grip tightening with each new jerk and swing of the robot's hand. Smoke and grit filled the air, the scents of ozone and soot clogging her throat, and somewhere high and to one side she could see the giant's other hand gripping a huge handgun that shot out blazes of red light.

The giant's hand jerked again, the world whirling in a wild kaleidoscope of flame-tinted smoke and mottled shadow and flashes of firecracker-bright light, and Evelyn felt herself sliding further off of the metal palm. She scrabbled for purchase on the slick metal, but the hand shifted and tilted, and she found herself pinned between the palm and the giant's chest, pressed against the purple symbol.

Sound came trickling back as the world lurched and shuddered again, crashing-clanging sounds ringing over the roar of flames and gunfire as the giant took several steps back and to one side.

A smoke-wreathed figure loomed a fair distance away, hefting something that looked like a cross between a rifle and a rocket launcher. 

 _"How the slag did he get here so fast?"_  bellowed the red and black giant, words punctuated with a loud crackling  _phoom!_  as a bolt of white light shot from the weapon. Beyond Evelyn's range of vision, something exploded, sending bits and pieces of metal and cement raining down all around, impacting on the black and white giant with little  _pings_  and pelting Evelyn's exposed skin.

Something groaned overhead, and Evelyn's world spun and dipped as the giant pivoted, hunching over. An ear-splitting crash of metal upon metal shredded the air, an almighty jolt rocking the giant's frame and rattling Evelyn's entire body. The giant lurched, falling to one knee, and a twisted, smoking I-beam slid off its shoulder. The ground loomed in her vision, a rubble-strewn plain of sooty gray no more than ten feet below her.

The giant made a sound akin to a growl. "Well, if this ain't the most fun since Primus made high-grade."

Evelyn tightened her hold around the giant's index finger as its grip upon her loosened.  _I think I'm going to be sick._

 _'No time for that,'_  said the voice, and her vision blurred and then cleared as a wave of prickly pins and needles washed over her entire body, maddeningly uncomfortable. Her body twisted and writhed without her consent, and she slipped out of the giant's slack grasp, dropping to the floor below.

_What—_

Her thigh and arm screamed obscenities at her as she hit and rolled upon impact, but then she was abruptly up and running when the pain should have left her a moaning heap on the ground. Above her the giant shouted something incomprehensible, and her body ducked to one side as a huge black hand swept past her as though to scoop her up.

— _the hell?_

One of the warehouse walls was nearly obliterated, leaving a hole large enough for three tractors to drive through side-by-side. Sunlight shone through and highlighted the smoke with a brilliant white aura on one side, contrasting with the red and black glow of fire on the other. Evelyn's legs launched her toward the light, dodging around broken cement and mounds of flaming, shattered wood and other bits of rubble. The soles of her feet screamed with pain as she stepped on splinters and jagged pieces of concrete, and her steps faltered momentarily as the need to stop overrode all else.

’ _Stop fighting me!'_  snapped the voice. Her legs regained their stride.  _'This isn't exactly easy. How do you balance on these tiny things?'_

From behind her and off to one side came the red and black giant's voice: "'Beat, what're you—You let it  _escape?"_

"Shut up, Torque!"

 _You..._  Breath rushed in and out of her lungs in a forced, measured rhythm. Her eyes traveled without her permission, focusing on obstacles, on the unnatural flashes of light passing overhead, as though she were watching a point-of-view shot in a movie.  _What are you doing?_

' _Running?'_ Behind her, she could hear the thunder of the giant's steps as it followed her, one step to her every three.

 _But... but... this is_ my _body!_ Evelyn argued stupidly. The itching, tingling sensation covered her from head to foot, steady and infuriating.

' _Well, it wasn't like you were doing anything useful with it!'_  She dropped to all fours, and something big rushed past overhead. The giant spat what sounded like a curse, but she was up and running again.

 _Not that way!_ she protested as she approached the brilliant light of the fissure in the wall. White lightning from the red and black giant and crackling green bolts of flame from somewhere outside passed through the opening in swarms, vibrating the air in a broken chorus of whines, hisses, and explosions.

' _Relax.'_ She vaulted a fallen piece of sheet metal, presumably from the distant ceiling. Her thigh was a mass of burning nerves, pain extending now throughout the entire leg and up into her side. Her feet were on fire, throbbing in time with her heart.  _'They're aiming way too high to hit us.'_

_Don't you know what 'collateral damage' is?_

The opening loomed, thickly shrouded by silver-streaked smoke.

"Catch it! 'Beat, you glitch,  _catch it!"_

Light from the opening filled her vision like a portal to a different world, but the light was abruptly blocked, and her body lurched to a halt at the feet of a third giant, watching with wide eyes as one of those feet made its inexorable descent toward her.

" _Slaggit!"_  The yell came from her throat, raspy and hoarse and sounding not like her at all.

A rush of black and white slammed into the third giant, throwing it several heavy, faltering steps backwards away from the building. Smoke veiled the two figures. The third giant stood a head over its black and white opponent, and in a move that Evelyn would have thought physically impossible, the larger giant picked up its adversary and flung it to one side. The ground shook with the giant's landing, but Evelyn was abruptly moving again.

Her body threw itself forward, past the last of the wreckage and leaping over the jagged lip of splintered wood that had once been the wall. Her arms impacted the gravel-strewn grass outside, and her body twisted, rolling, sky and ground and smoke all whirling in a sickening kaleidoscope, rocks jabbing her sides, her legs, her shoulders and back, until she jerked to a halt, panting against the dirt and shriveled grass and breathing the cooler, smoke-tinted air of outside.

_Ow..._

Her entire body throbbed, myriads of bruises and cuts vying with the inflamed muscles of her thigh and the burning skin of her arm and the pain of her abused feet. The pins and needles remained over it all as she rolled into a standing position and staggered. She nearly fell headlong against the hood of a glossy black sports car, and she was immediately  transfixed by the sight of the thick metal pole that speared through the car's hood, neatly puncturing the grinning purple sigil. Pink and blue liquids formed a spatter ring encircling the wound and dripping down to puddle around the car's tires.

' _Blockade the Blockhead,'_  mused the voice.  _'Straight through the cortex.'_

Her hair, singed and lank, flopped around her face as her head swung to the left and right. Wild forest stood before her, the warehouse behind, and an ancient, cracked roadway far, far to her left, past a second, smaller warehouse. She pivoted completely, and her gaze caught on the third giant stalking after the sprawled form of the black and white giant. Sunlight glinted on yellow and black metal and a helm that bore two horn-like projections on either side. It growled, its voice deep and resonant, "Decepticon, I'm going to  _rip you apart."_

The pins and needles evaporated as though they never were, dropping her to her knees.

' _... Sunny...'_

Evelyn shook her head and took a moment to marvel that she could do so. She attempted to stand, but the tenderness in her leg and feet drove her back down with a pained gasp. Movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see the red and black giant exiting the warehouse. She backpedaled, scrabbling over the jagged gravel, but the giant did not look down, instead aiming its gun at the yellow giant.

A sort of explosion took place within her skull, sending stars across her vision, and she heard her voice screaming,  _"SUNNY!"_

The  _phoom!_  of the giant's gun split the air, followed by a thunderous detonation and a scream louder and more piercing than anything Evelyn had ever heard. Her vision cleared.

The yellow giant stood untouched. Beside it knelt the crumpled form of the black and white giant, clutching a hole in its side that leaked pink liquid and spat sparks. The light within the red visor flared and flickered unsteadily.

The red and black giant froze. It stood and looked at its downed companion, at the impaled car, and at the deadly still form of the yellow giant that still held a gun of its own.

The red and black giant retreated one step.

And another.

With a sneer and a snarled curse, the giant turned and ran for the road, making a flying leap halfway there. Its body twisted and convulsed midair, and that familiar mechanical screech sounded, and a soot- and dirt-streaked car fishtailed onto the road and sped away.

A series of hums and groans and clatters sounded from the other direction, and Evelyn turned back just in time to see the black and white robot running unsteadily after its companion, staggering and almost falling. It stumbled to its knees and transformed, halting and slow, and soon a second black car, smoke trailing behind it and engine chuttering and groaning, followed in the first car's wake.

A strange sort of silence fell, a silence that was not really  _silent_  at all. The warehouse moaned and creaked, wood splintering and metal warping, small fires still crackling around the impressive hole in the building's side. Far in the distance the familiar wail of police and firefighting vehicles echoed, growing louder.

And much nearer a low mechanical hum overlaid the ringing in her ears. Evelyn turned to look at the third giant. It stood unmoving, and her racing heart skipped a several beats in a row when she realized that the giant's pale, silver-blue eyes were fastened with singular attention upon her.

Her throat tingled.

" _Well, it sure as slag took you long enough."_

She clapped a dirt-encrusted hand over her mouth, eyes wide. The giant's intense gaze morphed into an intense scowl. It stepped toward her, ground trembling beneath its feet.

_What are you doing? Are you insane?_

' _He's my brother.'_

 _Say_  what?

The tingling passed over her entire body, and the hand dropped away from her mouth. Pain shot through her legs as she stood. Her fists propped themselves on her hips as her body took on a decidedly cocky stance, her head tilting further and further back to watch as the giant neared.

_Oh... my... God..._

Her head barely reached the bottom of the giant's knee, and she was lost in its shadow. It was even larger than the two black giants, but its body was streaked and scuffed, not glossy as theirs had been. Her mouth scrunched into a frown without her consent.

" _Primus, Sunny, what the Pit happened to you?"_

The glare transformed into a snarl, and one of the large yellow hands swept down and snatched her off the ground, knocking the wind out of her and setting her head to spinning.

"How do you know that name?"

Her lungs drew in a long wheeze of breath, and her eyes locked with the pale gaze that was now mere feet away. Her lips twitched into a small grin.

" _Primus, bro, not so rough."_

The metal of the giant's face was as pliable as human skin, its forehead drawing down in a deepening scowl, its eyes narrowing, silver lips pulling back from white metal 'teeth.'

"What are you?"

" _Sunny—"_

"Don't call me that!" The fist tightened just the slightest bit. "I asked you a question,  _organic._  What are you? How do you know that name?"

One of Evelyn's fists thumped against the black metal of the giant's thumb. Evelyn's thoughts hiccupped in sheer terror.  _"It's_ me, _you self-absorbed aft! Me! Sidesw—"_

The fist  _squeezed,_  forcing a wheezing cough from her lungs. The pale blue eyes loomed even closer. "Try again."

The wail of sirens was growing ever-louder. 

_"Look, you glitch, we don't have time for this! More humans are coming any second now. We have to—"_

Squeeze.

"—'Streaker,  _don't_ do _that. Yeah, I know, there's been some bodywork done, but—"_

"Don’t. Frag. With. Me." Squeeze. 

An unhealthy sounding gasp scraped its way out of her throat.  _I'm going to die!_

The voice paused for a long moment. Her body panted, heart fluttering in her throat.

Then:

" _You used to be blue and white."_

The pressure eased so much and so quickly that Evelyn very nearly fell through the giant's grasp completely. Her arms gripped the edge of one giant yellow palm, holding firm despite her aching muscles.

" _You moaned that blue washed out your optics, so you chose yellow for contrast. Yellow and white blended too easily, so you wanted yellow and black. You had the work done when Shoulderscrew was giving our specs to the Prime, and he gave you an orn in the Hole to pay for it. I had to do both our workloads to cover for your sorry aft, too."_

The giant stared, eyes wide and bleached to near-white, the ugly, angry lines of its face flattened into an expression of dumbfounded shock.

"... Sides?" Evelyn was suddenly cradled atop on a yellow palm with a second hand hovering behind her as though she were in danger of tipping off. "I... you were dead. I saw your body."

" _Hey, you know me."_  Her mouth stretched into a broad grin, arms spread.  _"The Incredible, Indestructible Sideswipe. I'm harder to get rid of than rust rash."_

The pale eyes were changing, bleeding to a sky-blue. "What the slag happened to you?"

" _Uh... later, maybe?"_  One of her hands gestured in the direction of the road. The sirens were even closer, enough so that the sounds of the vehicles' engines were barely discernable.  _"Time to roll, bro."_

There was something behind the glass that covered the giant's eyes, something that provided the glow from within and the coloring, and she could see it move and look past her at the road. The giant sneered. 

"Underdeveloped fleshbags. They couldn't scrap a turbo-rat."

Evelyn felt as though she should be upset at that remark. All she could scrounge up was a distant sort of indignation. 

 _Charming,_ she commented tiredly. Suddenly, she did not much mind that her body had been, essentially, hijacked. It was easy to let someone else do the work.

" _C’mon, bro. Let’s roll."_  Mentally, the voice chuckled.  _'Sorry. I'd tell you that he isn't usually like this, but I'd be lying.'_

"First things first." The giant's free hand grabbed at the air, and there was suddenly a flat metallic  _something_  in its grasp. A flick of the wrist, and the device went arcing through the air to land with a loud  _clang_  atop the hood of the remaining black car.

" _A smelter-shell? Feeling a little vindictive, bro?"_

"A little." The giant reached out and grasped the pole impaling the car, wrenching it out with a shriek of tortured metal, sending a spray of blue and pink liquid through the air. A flick of the wrist, and the pole, easily thirty feet long and a foot in diameter, winked out of existence.

 _Houdini,_  thought Evelyn inanely.

The yellow giant lowered her to the ground, and gravel bit into the tender soles of her feet as she stepped down. The towering figure took a step backwards and fell to its knees... only it never reached its knees because it no longer had knees. A yellow sports-car rocked on its suspension as its front tires fell the last foot to the ground. The driver-side door rose, and her tingling, aching body limped over and all but collapsed into the seat. The door closed with a hiss and a clunk.

A screen set into the dashboard flickered to life, showing an image of the giant's face. "You're tracking dirt in me, you realize."

" _That's all right. No one will know the difference."_

"Slagger."

Her mouth curved into a smile.  _"Missed you, too, bro."_

The car  _hmph_ ed, the engine revving to life as it pulled down the gravel drive. A seatbelt moved of its own accord, wrapping over her shoulder and across her waist and latching with a quiet  _click._  In front of her the steering wheel twitched and rotated without a guiding hand.

The engine roared as the car pulled out onto the highway, but that roar was drowned in the thunderous explosion from behind. Startled, Evelyn jerked around to look, momentarily overcoming the voice's hold. An inferno enveloped where the black car had been sitting, smoke belching skyward to mingle with the thinning vapor rising from the nearly destroyed warehouse, bits and pieces of charred metal raining down all around.

" _Nice,"_  came that hoarse parody of her voice.  _"And just in time."_

Blue and red lights glittered in the rearview mirror, turning onto the gravel drive, and the car's engine revved and downshifted, sending the vehicle rocketing forward, leaving the police and fire-trucks far behind. 

Green, forested hills rolled by on either side, broken only by the occasional barn or secluded house, sections of barbed-wire fences skimming past intermittently. Evelyn recognized none of it.

"All right, slagger. It's later. What in the Pit happened? What's with the fleshie suit?"

Her shoulders shrugged.  _"I'd tell you if I knew. And anyway, it's not a suit. More of a... time-share."_

"... What?" The purring engine took on the overtone of a growl.

" _The human's spark is in here, too."_

' _Speaking of which... How're you doing?'_

Had she the control to manage it, she would have snorted.  _Ouch._

' _Heh... Well, at least you can still feel, right?'_

" _You can meet her later. Her name's Evelyn. She's okay. Kind of boring, though."_

 _Tomatoes,_  thought Evelyn with what vehemence she could muster.  _Jello. Mac and cheese. Yogurt, with_ peaches.

' _Okay, okay. Put it in neutral.'_

The tingling lessened, and Evelyn slumped into the seat, curling and uncurling her fingers for the simple sake that she  _could._

_All that money on therapy... and those damn pills..._

_Figures._

The voice laughed at her.  _'So, what? You don't think you're crazy anymore?'_

Evelyn looked down at her hands, inordinately relieved that she could move that much. Dirt had turned the white sections of her nails black. A bruise was beginning to form along the back of her forearm, bordered by a section of raw, red skin. Both her palms were scraped and bleeding from the gravel outside the warehouse.

 _This hurts too much to be a dream,_  she replied, feeling very much in need of a nice, cleansing cry.


	7. Unreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where's Sideswipe?"
> 
> Evelyn 'listened' for the voice again and found that same mumble. 
> 
> "He’s... asleep, maybe? Bodysnatching must really take it out of you," she added sourly.
> 
> "He's kept you alive."
> 
> _I sense a 'for now' dangling out there._

 

_I just know, before this is over, I'm gonna need a whole lot of serious therapy. Look at my eye twitchin'._

–  ** _Donkey, Shrek_**

* * *

Evelyn awoke when a particularly nasty bump jolted the car. She could not remember falling asleep. Outside the warm light of midday had cooled to the blues and grays of evening, tinting the bright green of the trees pressed close to either side of the narrow country road. She blinked fuzzily at the array of lights scattered across the dashboard, and her gaze settled on the small screen set at the center, glowing with what appeared to be a screensaver, a flat red 'face' rotating in front of a blue field. It was uncannily like the purple sigils the monster-robot-car-giants had emblazoned on their hoods, but while the red face appeared stern, it did not have the air of malevolence that the purple face did.

The sight niggled at something in her memory, but she was too tired to think much on it.

She shifted, neck aching from sleeping upright, feet and thigh throbbing with old pain. She woke up further upon recognizing the discomfort low in her abdomen. Her gaze darted around the dimly-light interior of the car, lingering on the ever-twitching steering wheel.  _Oh, boy._

_Hello? Voice...?_

_... Sideswipe?_

The presence was still there, far at the back of her mind, a perpetual, nonsensical mumble, but it seemed more distant than usual, and there was no reply to her call.

"Ah... excuse me?"

The red icon blinked out of existence, replaced by the face of the yellow and black giant. The image glowered at her, and the purr of the engine deepened.

"Er, is there a rest stop nearby? Or a gas-station?"

Blue eyes narrowed. There was no response.

"... I need to get out."

"No."

Evelyn looked ahead. The road was the usual twisting, turning sort in the lower foothills of the mountains, bits of stone peaking out of rust-red soil where the ground had been cut away to make way for construction.  _Nearly in the Appalachians._ "Where are we going?"

"Where's Sideswipe?"

Evelyn 'listened' for the voice again and found that same mumble. 

"He’s... asleep, maybe? Bodysnatching must really take it out of you," she added sourly.

"He's kept you alive."

_I sense a 'for now' dangling out there._  She sighed, shifting in her seat. " _Please,_ pull over?"

"No."

"I'm serious. If there are no gas-stations, fine. Just pull over. I have to get out. I..." She grimaced, cheeks warming. "... I need to go to the bathroom."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Her hands curled into fists, pressing into her thighs. "Maybe you don't understand. I  _need_  to go to the  _bathroom._  A restroom.  _El baño. Il bagno. Le salle de bains. Otearai._ A  _water-closet._  This isn't something that you can say 'no' to!"

"No." The engine revved smugly.

_I don't think this is translating. How do you explain the concept of a 'bathroom' to a giant robot?_

_... Okay, let's speak Robot._

She sucked in a fortifying breath. 

"I need to... expel waste products from my body," she said, carefully enunciating each syllable. "I need to do so  _soon,_  or my body will do so anyway without my permission. It will be messy, and it will be humiliating, and, for the record, I refuse to clean  _you_  out if it happens. Does that compute?"

A few minutes passed. The car slowed and pulled to the side of the road, seatbelt retracting and door rising out of her way. Evelyn sighed and eased her sore feet onto the damp stone- and stick-laden ground.

"Thank you.

* * *

_I will never take toilet-paper for granted again._

Her hose had been reduced to mere skeletal remnants of their former selves, and those remnants sacrificed themselves nobly somewhere in the foothills of the Appalachians. As for the rest of her things, her purse and shoes were MIA, her blouse stained and torn. Her under-things and the medical glove seemed to be the only things to escape relatively unscathed. Evelyn mourned her skirt, one of her favorite articles of clothing, tattered and scorched as it was, as she limped through the itchy, clinging underbrush back to the impatiently idling car.

The door opened for her as she approached, but she sat with her feet hanging out of the car and bent to look at their abused soles.

_Damn._

"Break's over, squishy. Back inside."

"Hush a second." She cradled her foot and levered it atop the opposite knee. Her teeth ground together as she brushed dirt and soot and God-knew-what-else away from the cut and bruised flesh and proceeded to pick out the splinters and bits of gravel out of the deeper injuries, provoking sluggish trickles of blood to surface. She hissed and flinched when her ministrations aggravated tender nerves.

"What are you  _doing?"_

Her lips parted in a humorless smile as she lowered her foot to the ground, attempting to rest it on its side as she brought its fellow up for similar treatment.  _How much can a sentient car see?_

"I need to go home," she said at last, working at a particularly stubborn splinter.

"No," came the growled response, accompanied by a rev of the ever-running engine.

"I said  _need._ That's not like  _want.Want_  means that it would be nice if something did happen;  _need_  means that bad stuff will ensue if something doesn't happen." She nearly bit her tongue when her grip slipped. " _Ah_... I need to go home, and I need a doctor—"  _Robot-speak,_  she reminded herself. "—a mechanic? I need a mechanic to look at my feet."

"There are mechanics where we're going."

"Human mechanics?" she asked, feeling that the conversation was taking an even more surreal turn. "Because I don't really want to die."

" _Die?"_  The entire car vibrated with the force of the engine's rumble.

"Yes." The debris on her arms and hands was easier (and less painful) to pick off. "These cuts, there's stuff inside them now, bits of dirt and wood. If I don't get them cleaned out, they'll get infected."

"... and?"

_What's Robot-speak for infections?_  "My feet will turn funny colors and fall off, and then I'll die."

There was a long pause, then:

"You're lying."

"Don’t I wish. At least take me back to my apartment. I've got a first-aid kit; I'll take care of myself, take a shower—" _Find the Aleve._ "When the voi—When Sideswipe wakes up, we can talk."

"Right. You want to go back where the Decepticons are hunting you. Missing them already?"

Evelyn smiled slightly, though there was very little humor in the expression. "Decepticons? Nice name. Very Trekkie. But seriously, take me home."

The engine's rumble rose and fell and rose again, finally settling somewhere in-between. "For how long?"

"How long? It’s my home. I live there. That’s what home _means."_

"I’m not leaving Sideswipe stuck in some squishy deathtrap with Decepticons on the hunt."

"Okay," she said, drawing out the word thoughtfully. "That… that could be a… fair point."

The noise of the engine dropped low and sounded decidedly smug. 

Evelyn glowered. "I still have to go home. I’m not haring off anywhere until my feet are healed. That’s non-negotiable."

"Again: how long?"

"I don’t know—a week?" No reply.  _Robot-speak,_  she reminded herself, and feeling vaguely foolish, she tried, "Seven days? Seven light times and seven dark times?" She pointed upward and wondered again what a car's visual field consisted of.

"One. One 'day'."

"You’re hilarious. Six."

"Two."

"Five."

"Three."

"Deal."  _So, haggling is universal. Who knew?_  "Three days, and you and your 'brother' tell me what's going on."

"After  _you_  find  _me_  some decent polishing cloths and some wax."

Evelyn pondered that. "Will you take a run through a car-wash? Waxing and buffing included."  _Marty's Car Wash does that, right?_

"Deal." A moment of silence passed, then:  _"Now_  will you get in?"

"... oh." She scooted onto the seat fully, turning and, once more, resting her feet lightly on their sides.  _I'll need to add an interior shampoo to that car-wash,_ she thought ruefully. The seatbelt slithered back around her and secured itself even as the door hissed shut. "Thank you... Sunny."

"Sun _streaker."_  The car pulled a wide U-turn and settled into a brisk seventy-miles-per-hour pace back the way they had come, sending Evelyn's stomach into flip-flops whenever they rounded one of the many curves that characterized roads in the northern part of the state. "Let's get something straight, squishy. I couldn't give a gasket whether you live or die beyond whether Sideswipe lives or dies with you. After this is over with, you can walk straight in front of a rampaging gestalt and get squished into a little organic smear, and I won't give a smeltin' slag."

Evelyn let out a silent little puff of a laugh. "Nice to know where I stand."  _What the hell's a 'gestalt'?_  "I don't suppose you'd drop the 'squishy' comments? The Deceptibots called me that. It's freaky."

"Decepti _cons."_

"Right. Well, I'm Evelyn."

"Whatever, squishy."

* * *

The superintendent's apartment was located at the far back corner on the first floor of the building. The hallway smelled of old carpet and Pine-Sol, lit by fluorescent tube lights that picked out every flaw on the ancient walls and every stain on the even-more-ancient carpet. The superintendent was, likewise, ancient, his face a veritable roadmap of wrinkles haloed by a shock of snowy-white hair.

His expression upon seeing Evelyn battered and subdued outside his door might have been humorous under different circumstances.

"M-miss Evy?"

Evelyn mustered a tired smile. "Mr. Johnson, I don't suppose you'd unlock my door for me? I seem to have misplaced my purse."

The old man's mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish mouthing after bits of food. His eyes went from her face to her clothes to her feet and back again, blinking rapidly. "Miss Evy, what in God's name happened to you? You look like a herd of cattle done run you over!"

"How convenient," she said with tired humor. "I  _feel_  like I've been trampled by a herd of cows. I hate to trouble you so late, but I'd really like to get into my apartment, and like I said, I don't have my keys."

"Miss Evy, you don't need your apartment; you need a doctor! Come in and sit down and let me call someone! Good lord..."

_Do I look that bad?_  "Mr. Johnson, no, really... It looks worse than it is. There was—I was... I've had a very bad day," she finished weakly.

' _So witty. Ever consider a career in espionage?'_

Evelyn did her best to keep her expression neutral, but it was struggle. _Awake, then? About time._

_Your brother's a real ass, by the way._

' _He's Sunstreaker,'_ replied the voice, as though that should explain everything.

_And I'm exhausted. If I don't get a shower and a nap soon..._

_Well. It's not going to be pretty._

"Could you open my apartment? Please? I've already got an appointment with a doctor for tomorrow—"

' _Your voice squeaks when you lie. Did you know that?'_

"—and I've spoken with the police."

' _Did it again.'_

"I... Good grief, Miss Evy, if the missus ever found out I let you walk away looking like that..."

_Tapioca pudding. Ever had it?_

' _... no.'_

"I won’t tell if you won't." She set off down the hallway, limping toward the old freight elevator at the back of the building. Behind her, she heard the old man curse softly and jog after her.

_Shut up, and I'll keep it that way._

* * *

The message light was blinking on her answering machine when she closed the door to her apartment, a red beacon in the blue twilight of the room. The familiar normalcy of home surrounded her, making the happenings of the past day seem more distant than a dream, and it took her several long moments to prod herself into walking those short steps over to the side table and pressing the  _play_  button.

" **You have _five_  unheard messages.  _First_  unheard message."** A familiar Southern drawl emerged from the speakers.  **" _Chickadee? Hey. It's a little after ten. I just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. Call me when you get in, alright? Take care."_**

Beep.

" ** _Second_  unheard message:  _Okay, hon, you know I hate these things, but it's ten in the mornin' now, and you still haven't called, and I'm not gettin' through on your cell. Gettin' a li'l worried. Did you get lost? Anyway... call me. Seriously."_**

Evelyn eyed the machine. The third message came:  ** _"—where on God's green earth are you? Evy, this ain't funny—"_**  She pressed  _skip._ The fourth message came.  ** _"—Evelyn, if this is some weird kind of caller-screenin', I swear to God, I will slap you_ so  _hard—"_**

_Skip._

The fifth message came.

" ** _Chickadee, you are really scarin' me. I've called everywhere. Where are you?"_**

Evelyn stood and stared at the phone.  _Better call before she sends for the National Guard._

' _It's good that she watches out for you.'_

_Hm. It's nice, yeah, as long as she doesn't... call... my..._

_... parents..._

_Oh, damn._

She picked up the receiver and began to dial.

' _Parents?'_

_Not now, Sideswipe._  

A low ringing echoed down the phone line.

' _You used my name!'_  exclaimed the voice, delighted.

_Not now!_

There was the  _crr-chk_  of a phone lifted from its cradle, and then: "Hello, this is Jamie Burke. Might I ask who's callin'?"

"Jamie, tell me that you didn't call my parents."

_"Evelyn!"_  The receiver buzzed with static from the force of the shriek. "Evelyn Meredith Hughes, you had  _better_ be in the hospital, because if you aren't, so help me,  _I'm gonna put you there!"_

"Jamie—"

"I have been worried  _sick!_  Have you seen the news? Buildings explodin', cars ripped to shreds, thefts all over: it's a madhouse! And you go harin' off to God-knows-where—"

"Jamie!"

" _What?"_

"Did you call my parents?"

"Well, of  _course_  I did. You said you might visit while you were on med leave, so when you weren't at home, where else was I supposed to think you'd go?"

"Jesus, Jamie, I was only gone for a day!"

" _And I couldn't reach you at all!_ Of course I've been worried! What in the name of Joseph and Mary have you been  _doin'?"_

_I was kidnapped by giant alien robots and rescued by the rude, crude brother of the voice in my head._

_Yeah, that'll go over well._

"Um… Well, I... There was... I..."

"Sounds like your needle's skippin'," drawled the other woman sourly. "Want to try a different record,  _Chickadee?"_

' _You really_ can't _lie, can you?'_

"I... I was mugged!"

' _What?'_

"What?"

"Mugged. These two... guys, in black. They knocked me out and took my purse, and I woke up out in the boonies."

"Oh, my God," breathed Jamie. Then again, "Oh, my God. Are you alright?"

Evelyn grinned into the receiver.  _From raging hellfire to mother-hen in point-five seconds flat. That's my Jamie._  "I'm fine. I've got cuts and bruises from here to Hiawassee, but that's it."

"They..." There was an odd quiver in the husky voice. "They didn't... hurt you, did they?"

"Hurt...?" Evelyn's stomach lurched. "No. No! Jamie, no, no, no, I'm fine. I just need a shower and some sleep. Honestly."

A moment of silence. "I'm coming over."

_Oh, no..._ "Jamie, no. Not tonight, at least. I'm exhausted. I'm going to clean up, and then I plan to sleep for a day or two. Tomorrow, okay? We'll do dinner... or something. I dunno."

"Dinner."

"Yeah."

"Tomorrow."

"Right."

"You swear?"

"Pinkies and everything."

"... and you're sure you're alright? Really, truly, honest-to-God-Almighty-and-all-the-heavenly-angels-and-sweet-baby-Jesus?"

"Holy cow. Yes. I’m fine. Hunky-dory, okey-dokey, and all that good stuff... Of course, I'd be better if you hadn't called Mama and Daddy. Now the entire family is going to be showing up at my door."

"Full-scale family alert, I know. I'm sorry. But criminy, you had me frettin' worse than a cat in a kennel. Don't you ever do that to me again!"

"I'll do my level best."  _I could go to sleep right here,_  she thought.  _Of course, Jamie would come at a run when she heard the 'thunk'._  "I really need to go. I need a shower, and I don't want to fall asleep in the stall."

"Alright. Take care of yourself. We’ll talk tomorrow."

"Thanks. You, too. Goodnight, Jamie."

"Night, Chickadee."

Evelyn settled the receiver back in the cradle and sighed a sigh that felt as though it came all the way from the soles of her feet, which chose that moment to throb warningly.

_Okay. First-aid, shower, then bed. Then a nice, long talk with the alien car and the disembodied voice, a trip to the car-wash, and dinner with Jamie._

' _At least you're not bored, right?'_

Evelyn limped across the blessedly cool carpet toward her bedroom and bathroom, working at the buttons of her blouse.  _I am filthy and in pain, and I'm missing my purse and everything in it, and it turns out that my head really_ is _a time-share with some strange robot from outer-space..._

_But true, I am definitely not bored._

She dropped the blouse on the floor outside the bathroom, flicking on the light.

"… Wow."

_Good lord. I really_ do _look that bad._

' _Those colors aren't natural, are they?'_

Evelyn traced one of the thick bands of faint blue-green flesh that stretched across her abdomen before wrapping both arms over her bare stomach and frowning. Her arms were dotted with smaller bruises and minor scratches. Her face was untouched save for a small cut across one cheek that was haloed by a bruise of its own. Her hair hung in messy, knotted tangles, her skin smudged with soot and dirt.

_I look like someone ran me over with a backhoe._

_… I think I need a vacation from this vacation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_El baño. Il bagno. Le salle de bains. Otearai. A water-closet. –_ ** _bathroom/restroom (Spanish) (Italian) (French) (Japanese) (Queen's English)_
> 
> **_MIA –_ ** _Missing In Action_
> 
> **_Trekkie –_ ** _an avid fan of Star Trek science fiction, television shows, and films; by extension, a person interested in space travel; also called Trekker (source: Webster's New Millenium Dictionary)_
> 
> **_Hiawassee –_ ** _as in Hiawassee, Georgia, the city_
> 
>  


End file.
